Like A Fox
by xoSanna-Chanxo
Summary: When Scarlett Monahan is picked as the Girl Tribute of District 5, she discovers life, love, and her own identity. But can she really win the games? Foxface POV. Rated T because I'm paranoid. I don't own anything. Chapter 8 is up now.
1. Chapter 1

When the sun rises and hits my pillow, my eyes open automatically. The birds, nested in the trees outside my window, are twittering away in a happy melody. For a second, I forget everything. I could pretend that it's just a normal day, just a normal day, just a normal day. But it's not. And that cold feeling of apprehension washes over me as I remember that it's the day of the reaping.

I roll over, suddenly too warm in my comfortable bed, and gaze at the small, digital clock that sits a top my dresser. It's nearly ten- which means that I've slept in. Shockingly, and somewhat frighteningly, my mother has refrained from her usual rousing wake up song.

I take my time getting out of bed. I usually have a way of shutting out useless thoughts from my head, but today my mind isn't listening. I can't help but imagine getting selected as tribute. With a sickening thud, I realize that somewhere else in Panem, two teenagers are being led to the capital. And that I could soon join them.

I brush these thoughts out of my mind, and then look around the room. Simple white walls, a fluffy bed and gauzy canopy, a vanity table. It's the picture of a normal girl's room in district five. And a normal girl was probably going to be selected…

_Stop thinking about that!_ I command myself_. My god, I'm getting to be as bad as Vi! _Violet, my older sister, is always in constant fear of death. A rather morbid thought for a sixteen year old, but when you live in a district, it's a very real threat.

My family is about as average as they come. A father who works in the closest town as a merchant. A mother who stays home and looks after things. A sister, Violet, older by two years, who obsesses over boys and fashions. And my little brother Ollin. Whose turn it will be to be entered this year.

It's Ollin I worry for the most. Sure, most of the time he bugs the hell out of me, but I love him. And if he is picked, there is nothing I can do to help him.

I sit down at my vanity table and begin to brush out my long, sleek hair. My hair is my defining feature, as well as my namesake. My mother had been all set to name me Lindsay, but when I popped out, she was still all up on the drugs that had been administered to her. She took one look at my tiny, screaming face, bright red hair matted, and shrieked out, "Scarlett!!!"

I set down my brush and regard my reflection for a moment. I'm not as pretty as Violet, or as curvaceous as my best friend Lianna, but I'm not completely horrible. I have darty brown eyes, a sharp pointy nose, and eyebrows that arch upwards towards shiny red hair. I've been told that I look somewhat like a fox, but honestly I don't see it. I take out a tube of lip-gloss and paint a thin sheen across my pouting lips. I'm rather lucky- my skin is completely free of freckles, and while I do get the occasional zit, I generally have no acne.

Because I'm fourteen, I have my name entered three times. It's lucky that my dad does a pretty good job with work, so that I've never had to use Tesserae. Others aren't so lucky- Lianna will be entered six times this year. Other people even more. The odds are entirely in my favor. And Ollin's, entered only once. And even Violet, who will be entered five times. Really, I have nothing to worry about. So why am I still worried?

It's around eleven when I finally put on my dress. I've spent the last half hour reading and paging through my books, just incase the unthinkable should happen. My dress is an old one of Vi's, too tight around the chest and too loose in other places. I've grown, evidently. Still, it suits me fine. It's black, with a small black flower on the right corner. It ends right above my knees and is tied in a halter-top around my neck. I slip on a pair of Mary Janes, then walk downstairs.

I still have an hour before the reaping, but I'm going stir crazy trapped in my house. My mother is sitting at the dining room table, bawling her eyes out. And no one's even been chose yet. I clench my fists, nails biting into my palms, and head for the front door.

My father is sitting on the couch, watching TV. I can't help but look up as I pass, and realize, with a jolt, that he is watching some other district's reaping. I feel sick and move away, but not before he realizes that I'm there.

He looks up at me, sadness in his eyes. "Sad stuff," he mutters, clenching and then releasing the pillow in his lap. "Some girl just volunteered herself to save her little sister. Real cute, real small. Doesn't stand a chance."

I nod, feeling even worse. What if that happened to me? If I got picked, would Violet save me? I think she might, and feel a bit relieved. "What district?" I force myself to ask.

"12." So he's right. They haven't produced a winner in like thirty years. She really doesn't stand a chance.

Ollin is out on the front porch when I stomp out. He looks surprisingly handsome in a suit that I'm sure my mother forced him into. He's reading a comic book- something I have never had the time or patience for. He looks up and says, "Good luck, Scarlett."

"You too, squirt." I respond. "Not that you'll need it. You only have one entry."

"Yeah, well, whatever." he mutters, not caring enough to continue the argument. He looks back down to the pages of his book, where muscle men in tights and underwear always win. And the only person that ever gets hurt is the bad guy.

I am so angry with this thought that I can't help myself. I pull the comic book from his hands and throw it into the yard. A splash follows, and I realize with vindictive pleasure that it must have landed in the fountain.

"Hey!" He yelps. "I was reading that!"

"Welcome to real life." I say, then walk down the front steps.

***

The square is filling up by the time I reach it.

District Five is where, before all the wars and naturally disasters and stuff, it used to be some pretty place called California. We're pretty small as far as districts go- only about 500,000 people. And its this many people that must attend the reaping. Velvet ropes mark where the different age groups must stand, and I find myself ushered into the fourteen year old group. Lianna grip my arm, biting her lip in worry.

"I'm so nervous!" she exclaims, batting her big blue eyes. From the looks of the boy around us, you can tell that she'd have no problem coming up with a volunteer if boys were allowed to volunteer for girls.

"I know!" I say. "But we probably don't have anything to worry about. Right?"

"Right!" Lily shrieks, coming up from behind me. "We're fine! We all have under eight entries, and so probably older kids will be picked!"

I glance towards the sixteen year old section, and see Violet, standing still and beautiful, talking to her friends.

"Don't worry, Scarlett." Lianna coaxes. "It'll be fine. Really."

I force myself to smile at her. But it's an effort.

Suddenly trumpets are blaring, and we all turn to face the stage that has been set up in the middle of our biggest square. The mayor stands, looking peevish, at attention, then turns to face us, the audience. He talks for a long time about the Hunger Games, introducing it to us as if we haven't watched people from our district being killed _every year._

I look past the mayor to the chairs set up on top of the stage. There are four. Taro, our district's escort, sits in one of them. One is empty- that one belongs to the mayor, still gesturing wildly at the crowd. In the other chairs sit our two most recent Hunger Games winners. Lupe, a tall and blonde girl who's probably about twenty-four sits and waves at us, at the camera, and at greater Panem. The boy mentor, a surly man named Regilus, crosses his arms and stares us down.

Lianna's grip on my arm tightens, and I snap back to attention. Taro has grabbed the microphone and is chirping away in her silly capitol accent. Now she pulls the mic from its stand and walks over to the glass bowl for girls. She fumbles around in it for a moment, her face drawn in concentration. When she takes the scrap of paper out and unfolds it, she smiles in relief. Then she turns to face the camera.

"Do we have a Scarlett Redwood in the house?" she sings, and I nearly faint.


	2. Chapter 2

Shock. Fear. Nausea.

Thoughts flash before my eyes as I stand there, all cameras trained on my face. This is like a nightmare, only a thousand times worse, because it's real. I had four entries. Four entries! And yet here I am, about to be slaughtered.

Lianna's grip goes slack and she gives a little moan of shock. Then I'm being ushered up the stairs as the audience applauds half-heartedly. Taro is asking me something, and I'm just gasping at her, opening and closing my mouth like a fish. Then I look around, at the thousands of faces around me, and I smile.

Years of watching Hunger Games have taught me this; you need an angle. I am not strong, nor particularly fast. I am not sweet, gorgeous, or lovable. But I am smart. And I am cunning. So I smile at the crowd and wave as my insides scream and twist in agony.

I'm so focused on keeping my teeth tightly clenched that I barely notice as the boy tribute is picked. He's fairly tall, probably pretty strong, but really nothing special. I've seen him around school a few times, but he's actually Violet's age. Still, he probably stands a better chance than I do. I think that his name is Blake, or Blaire, or something like that. I really don't know, and I really don't care. The more I distance myself from him, the better off it will be when I kill him.

Unless I'm killed first.

The trumpets blare and Taro signs off with "And may the odds be ever in your favor!" Than we are ushered through the crowd and into the waiting room.

The waiting room is a fairly nice place, but nothing special. It's done in red and gold, with rugs probably imported from the capitol itself. Still, I'd pay for those carpets several times over if I could just get out of this, just go home. The guards leave us, and the room is filled with an uncomfortable silence. We both look away, embarrassed and scared.

My family arrives soon after, breaking the spell. My mother, eyes red from crying, ushers me into her arms. Even my father looks a little bit teary as he gruffly whispers, "I love you." Ollin is crying and hugging me, and I'm wondering if I'll ever see any of them again. And then I realize that something is wrong. Violet is nowhere to be seen. Here I am, about to be viciously murdered, and my own sister can't take time out of her busy schedule to say goodbye. I think about the district twelve girl, the one who sacrificed herself to save her sister, and immediately I know that, if the chance arose, I would help her. I would help her get home.

Then the guards come in and usher them all out. Mom breaks down and starts screaming, and one of them pulls her to her feet and drags her along behind him. And they're gone, they're gone, and I'm as good as dead.

I can't cry. I musn't. I have to look brave, as if I have a plan.

My next visitor is Lianna, who clutches at me and wails. "I'm so sorry!" she shrieks.

"It's not your fault," I respond, wondering exactly why_ I'm_ the one comforting _her_.

We hug and sniffle together for a few moments, and then she shakes back the sleeve of her dress from her arm. She carefully removes the little silver charm bracelet from her wrist, then hands it to me. "Please wear it," she pleads. "As your token."

"Ok." I say, then wrap the chain around my wrist.

"And please, promise me that you'll try to win!"

"I will," I respond, not bothering to tell her about the promise I'd made to myself. And, however unknowingly, to the girl from district twelve.

***

That night we eat on the train. It's the first time I've ever been in one before, and I marvel at how quickly it moves. Cars are owned only by the richest families, and they are still about a hundred times slower than this. I can't help but grin freakishly as I stick my head out of the window and let the wind slap my face.

When Taro calls for dinner, I quickly stand up. My dress is crumpled, and force of habit makes me itch for a change of clothes. I slowly pull open the drawers of the cabinet, and pull out an unfamiliar blue tank top. I put it on, and it fits perfectly. The capitol people know their job, you must admit. I slide open the next drawer and find an endless disarray of shorts. I grew up with Violet, in the upper part of district five, and still I've never seen so many shorts. I grab a pair of khakis, pull up by red hair into a ponytail, and follow my noise to the dining car.

I sit down at the table. Taro, Lupe, and Regilus are already sitting there. The first two are deep in conversation about the latest capitol fashion, and Regilus is sitting there glumly, staring at the empty plate before him. Blaine- _that_ was his name- is nowhere to be seen.

Finally he walks in and sits down, staring at his shoes. The three trainers look at us for a moment, then Taro turns to face the waiter. "We'll have the menu, please." She asks, and he nods sullenly and walks away.

"So!" Lupe says excitedly. "I can't wait to get to know you all better! We're going to have such a fun two weeks!"

Such a fun two weeks? Is she high? She's getting us ready to kill other teenagers!

"Just think of what their interview costumes will look like…" Taro murmurs dreamily. They begin talking at high speed again, completely ignoring us.

Regilus looks at us darkly, then take a wig of a strong smelling liquid I assume is brandy. It's such a delicacy in our markets that even the mayor only has it for special occasions. But I suppose it isn't hard to believe that he can afford it. The capitol sends him a small fortune every month… just one of the perks to winning the games.

Looking at Lupe, I'm fairly sure where her money goes. Clothes, trips to the capitol, and her semi-annual face lifts. _How did she win the Hunger Games?_ I wonder. _Is that even possible?_

When she won, she was seventeen. My memories are clouded about that year- I was only seven at the time. Every death was still horrific, although I was really too young to understand what was happening. As I grew older, I learned that the Hunger Games were simply a fact of life, like boys and chocolate addictions. My vague memories consist of screams, sounds of running, and swords clanking against one another. Yes, swords. That's the kind of thing they give us to kill each other.

After dinner, a _delicious_ stew, we gather in a train cabin filled with couches and a massive television. We watch the repeat of every districts reaping, and I'm sure that my face is turning paler and paler as it progresses.

First off is District 1, where an absolutely gorgeous blonde blows kisses to the crowd. I get the feeling that she would probably get along with Violet.

In District 2, a huge, utterly monstrous boy practically jumps onto the stage in order to volunteer. _That's_ _what I'm up against?_ I think, biting the inside of my cheeks so hard I can taste blood.

Districts 3 and 4 are uneventful. Then it's my turn, District 5.

It's like watching someone else. The waiting, the anxious murmurs. Then the reaping. When my name is called, I literally turn white. There is no hiding the fear in my eyes. Yet, as I reach the stage, a smile slowly spreads across my face, and the color returns to my cheeks. I grin, a creepy, terrifying grin, and laugh, white teeth flashing. Ha. I don't remember ever being so… deranged looking. But it's possible that this could be an advantage.

Blaine has nothing. He has no charm or skill or angle. He's simply a frightened boy as he mounts the podium, and I almost feel sorry for him. But not quite.

More districts pass, and I find my stomach clenching anxiously as I await District 12. At 11, something stops me though. A tiny girl, a twelve year old from the unhappy looks of the crowd, has been chosen. A tiny, sweet thing that looks like a bird. Her name is Rue.

District Twelve's reaping is the one I've been waiting for. The girl, Katniss Everdeen, I now know her name is, steps forward to replace her little sister. She is all that my father said- small, pretty, delicate-looking. And yet there is something in her eyes, a hardness, that scares me. Actually more like terrifies me. I take several deep breaths and focus on the promise I secretly made her.

The boy from District Twelve is named Peeta Mellark. He's pretty good looking, but whatever. I could care less.

The trumpets blare, and the capitol's seal flashes across the giant TV screen. And then Taro's telling us to get some rest, that we'll be arriving in the capitol tomorrow.

I trot off to bed, haunted by images of the tributes I'll be competing against.

It's the first night that I wake up screaming.


	3. Chapter 3

**YES! YES! YES! I managed to locate the rest of chapter 3! So, it starts out the same… but it's loads longer. **

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Our train speeds towards the station around the same time that District 11's does. It's easy to see that it's their train; the words "74th Annual Hunger Games!" are painted onto the side in a bright yellow. Beneath that, written in robin red lettering, is "District 11".

All of Panem is spread across what used to be known as North America. District 5, my home, is what was once California, Oregon, and Washington. District 11 is pretty much directly below us, a place once called Mexico. They work on agriculture, while we work on science and maths. District 5 is kind of like a branch of the Capitol's laboratories. That's why all of the kids know so much about the capitol- we get their magazines, their TV channels, sometimes even their bizarre fashions. Knowing all of this, you'd think we'd be exempt from the Hunger Games. But noooo.

I frown as I attempt to remember the faces of the two teenagers riding in the train opposite us. With a sinking feeling, I realize that it's Thrift and Root. Or something like that, anyways. They give weird names in other districts. Thrift- no, _Thresh- _was one of those massive people that looks as if they could pound you into the ground without breaking a sweat. I'd have to watch out for him, he would be dangerous. Rue, on the other hand… I feel bad for her. She was the twelve year old, the tiny one. She'll probably run straight into the Cornucopia and get killed.

I wouldn't. I'd be smart, I'd be cunning. I'd survive. At least until the final two.

I'm thinking this, and gripping the rail of the train at the same time. It's only when my knuckles are white and screaming that I can see how tight I'm squeezing. I realize, with a jolt, that I'm over thinking things again. I need to stop seeing the other contestants as humans, need to start seeing them as threats.

I'm so lost in thought that I don't notice the silence around me for a moment. Then, when I do, I look up. Everyone is staring in awe at what I can only describe as a city carved out of diamonds.

It's the Capitol, and it's astounding. My mouth drops open. It's like something from a fairy tale! Buildings of every shade in the rainbow glitter softly. I can see people- are they wearing costumes?- running through the streets. It's enough almost enough to make me see why my sister is always so excited about the Capitol. Almost. I can't help but remember the tiny, insignificant detail that they are sending me to my death.

I wonder; does Violet even care? Does this taint her vision of the glorious capitol? After all, she didn't come to see me off. She didn't come to say goodbye, to wish me luck. And what does that show about her? I'm already as good as dead, but I'm still breathing. I hope that she watches the show. I hope that she watches with bated breath and tears in her eyes as her little sister is hacked to bloody bits.

I hope that her name is pulled next year.

_Wow,_ I think, mulling over these words. _Maybe I am as deranged as I look._

But, you know, I couldn't care less. Anything that gets me closer to victory and District 5.

The one problem that I can see with my brilliant ploy is this; if I get home, then I have to see Violet again. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing- I'd quite like to give her a good pounding. If I make it through the games, my muscles will be as big as Thresh's, or Cato's.

Suddenly I'm thinking of District 12. Of Katniss, and of her little sister. What was her name again? Some sort of flower, I think.

Wow, I'm really bad with names today. _It's this stupid game,_ I think vehemently. _It's throwing me all off balance. Just focus, Scarlett, and use one of your mind tricks._

Ok. I think back to the night before, remembering the reapings. Was it really just last night?

Gritted teeth. _Focus._

A crowd. Ratty clothes. Effie Trinket, pink wig. Their mentor, totally drunk, trying to hug her. Effie walked over to the glass bowls, and said "Ladies first." And then, announcing the name… Primrose Everdeen.

I almost wish it was still Primrose. That Katniss had never volunteered. If it was Primrose, I would have teamed up with her. We could have spent hours ranting about how much older sisters _suck. _

I almost hate Katniss for this, for doing this to me. She doesn't even know me, and yet she's caused me so much pain.

The train pulls into the station, and I'm shaken by how many people are there. They let up a cheer and I'm blinded as flashbulbs go off in my face. I stand there like a deer in headlights, when I feel someone tugging me back into the confines of the train.

It's Taro, and she looks like she could kill me. "You're not supposed to let them see you!" she shouts. "It's all a big surprise!"

"Sorry," I mutter, wondering exactly what I'm sorry about.

She composes herself, and we step off of the train.

***

_The opening ceremonies are tonight,_ I think with dread. _Tonight. _I wish that I had spent more time sleeping on the train- I'm dead tired, and I haven't even seen my room yet. Instead, I'm standing in the prep room/costuming area, waiting for my team to come down and make me gorgeous. Yes, gorgeous. I can't even begin to imagine, can't wrap my mind around the preposterous idea. Am I sharp-featured? Yes. Am I stunning? Yes, but not in a _good_ way. Am I gorgeous? Absolutely, without a doubt, no.

When they finally come in and start on me, I'm nearly asleep, and I'm super hungry. There are three of them, all with crazy names. Leowen has pink hair and green eyebrows. He's obviously ancient, but he's gotten surgery so many times it's hard to guess a specific age. Pia is about as skinny as you can get without dying, and her head looks huge and freakish on her sticklike body. Narni looks kind of like Violet, which makes me hate her more than I already do.

They float around me and comment on my looks. More like insult me, actually.

"Ooooh, you're way too skinny," Pia croons. _Look who's talking,_ I think.

"And those legs!" Narni joins in. Yes, I'm not at all athletic. There's never been any reason to be- for me, the reaping is something that has only ever happened to "a friend of a friend."

They all agree that my hair is pretty, but that's about it. After insulting me from head to foot, they begin to work on me. First I'm waxed, which _hurts_. It really makes me wonder why Violet always did it herself- it's not like it matters. Well, I guess the answer's pretty clear. Boys. Then I get a French Manicure. I'm not entirely sure what "French" is, but with all of the crazy words here, I don't even care. My nails are now pinkish with white tips.

The last thing they work on is my hair. First they wash it, then they blow-dry it. Using tons of something from a green bottle, they make my hair shine. Using this really hot stick that they call a curling iron- which is pretty much an oxymoron if you ask me- they make my hair curl and fall gracefully down my back.

Apart from ripping my eyebrows to shreds, they leave my face alone. That's for Dell, my stylist, to work on. A blank canvas, as they put it.

Finally, after what feels like hours, they leave. By this point I'm ravenous, but no longer tired. I'm nervous, I'll admit, and my stomach flutters with anxiety. Then Dell walks in to begin the last part of primping before the opening ceremonies. My eyes automatically zoom in on the covered bag that holds my costume, and I hope that it's not too bad.

Because of our suckish industry, there's really not much to do for our costumes. We usually end up dressed up as one of the elements from the periodic table. That way, we hardly ever repeat, seeing as there are like two hundred and fifty elements.

Sure enough, it is one. I can tell as soon as I see the dress. "It's Cesium," he explains, as if I don't know.

"I know," I inform him. "Cesium. It melts if you hold it in your hand for a minute, yielding the prettiest liquid gold. If it were to break in your hand, the resulting explosion would be extremely unpleasant."

He nods, and holds up the dress again. Even though the element idea is fully overdone, I can see how pretty the dress is. It's floor length, strapless, and, true to its element, a pretty liquid gold. Somewhere near the knee area it dissolves from shimmering satin to lace and tulle. I hold up my arms, and Dell slips it over my head. I slide my feet into high heeled gold shoes, then turn to face myself in the mirror.

I look lovely. Not incredible, not outstanding. Certainly not gorgeous. But I do look pretty. "Thank you, Dell." I say politely. Whatever. It's not about looking pretty, anyways. At that moment, I think I understand what Dell tried to do with the dress. Pretty nice… but with a fabulous explosion. I smile wider. "Thank you, Dell!"

He sits me down, then begins to do my makeup. First he uses a shimmering gold eye shadow, then gold lipstick. He brushes bronzing powder over my cheekbone and draws my eyes out with a mascara brush. He tweezes my already arched eyebrows to the point where they look as if they were drawn on, then declares me "perfect."

It's just in time, too. Taro walks into my room wearing what is supposedly a conservative suit, although from where I'm from conservative doesn't mean ruffles and polka dots. She ushers me out into the rest of the games head quarters.

The Games HQ is exactly thirteen stories high, including the lobby. My dressing room and bedroom are located on floor five- surprise, surprise. So are Blaine's. Speaking of Blaine, we haven't said anything to each other all day. I suppose that's the capitol for you- already turning us into monsters in our opponent's eyes.

I ride down the elevator, feeling sicker and sicker as I descend. It's a good thing that I haven't eaten since this morning- I wouldn't be able to keep it down. It occurs to me that the other tributes are already down there waiting for me. It's the first time that I'll see them all.

When the doors open, the first person I see is Blaine. The lobby is huge and filled with people, so his familiar face gives me some momentary comfort. Then I take it my surroundings and freeze.

Outside of the lobby, I can see chariots that are meant to pull us through the streets of the capitol. I recognize our carriage as the one with palomino horses and the number 5 written on it. I grasp the bracelet that Lianna gave me- I had a huge fight with Dell over whether I could wear it tonight or not- and squeeze. One of the gamemakers rushes over to where I'm standing and tells us that we need to step onto the chariot right away.

I'm lifted onto the carriage, much to my chagrin. Blaine steps on easily by himself, as do the other tributes I can see around me. I crane my neck, completely turned around in my seat, trying to see Katniss. I don't really expect much from them- District 12's costumes suck worse than ours do. I can't see anything, and night is beginning to fall…

There! Or was that her? It seemed to me almost like there was fire shooting from her and that other boy's chariot. I narrow my eyes, attempting to see, but it's of no use. Taro utters a last desperate sounding, "Scarlett! Turn around!" and I'm forced to regain proper seating. Then the trumpets begin blaring, and Blaine and I are being announced, and then our chariots moving forward. Long, pearly white gates swing open and I see millions of people jumping up and screaming, "Scarlett! Scarlett!"

Adrenaline rushes through my veins. I wave and smile and blow kisses to the audience. And they eat it right up.

I know that I really shouldn't want to be here. I know that in a week or so I'll be thrown in an arena and hacked to death, and that they will enjoy watching me scream in agony. But for now, I'm here, I'm here, I'm here…

…And this is where I need to be.


	4. Chapter 4

**Wow, chapter four already! Ok, ok, I know that's not **_**that**_** much, compared to what some of you guys have, but whatever. Sorry I haven't updated in so long. I'm actually working on an original story right now. I'm entering it in the random house young adult writing contest, so it's taking up most of my time and energy. Wish me luck! Thanks to everybody who commented/subscribed! Oh, and Wesley? Of course you can use Scarlett's name! ******

It's when I'm getting dressed that I realize that I'm shaking.

I can't help it. Today's the day when we finally meet the rest of the tributes! When I finally see just what I'm up against. It's the first day of training. As if that in itself weren't bad enough, it means that there are only four more days until I get stuck in the arena.

Joy to the world.

I glance over at the golden dress. It's lying on the back of my couch, carefully spread out, in the same position as it was when I took it off last night. All of its beauty and magic is gone, disappeared along with the moon.

Well, aren't I poetic today?

Not really, though. The beauty of the dress actually faded last night, when we got back into the District Five headquarters and watched the replay of the opening ceremonies. That's when I realized just how unbelievably dazzling a ton of the other girls are. I couldn't even hold a match to Glimmer from District 1, with her jewel-encrusted gown, or Clove from District 2, or that other girl- Lila? - from District 9.

I _could _hold a match to Katniss. But that's a completely terrible pun. See, Katniss _was on fire._ Literally. As in, she had fire shooting out of her costume. It blew the rest of us out of the water, it was so incredible.

Why couldn't I have her designer? Why oh why did I get stuck with Dell and his prep team of doom? If I had her designer, I'd be memorable. I grit my teeth.

I finish pulling on my boots, then leave my room. It's breakfast time, but I'm really not hungry. How could I possibly be? I'm about to _really_ enter the Hunger Games.

The elevator ride seems to take longer than usual. Everything feels as if it's in slow motion. Maybe its just nerves, but I'm beginning to feel vaguely nauseous.

Breakfast is quiet, way too quiet. Blaine is staring at his toast as if it not really comprehending it's existence. I look at the roll I have in my hands, turning it around and around. I force myself to take a bite. I must get my strength up if I even want to appear as a contender. But do I even want to look like a contender? I'm so confused! Other than clever, I don't know what my angle is. Should I be watery and delicate? Or is that a disadvantage? There's no way that I'd ever be able to pull off potent. Not compared to Cato or Thresh or that boy from District 1 or even probably Blaine…

I groan. There's only so much a fourteen-year-old girl can take, and I'm reaching my stretching point. I'm going to have to just lay back and trust my instincts.

Taro suddenly flies through the door to the dining room, obviously oblivious to the black atmosphere in the air. She motions for an Avox to pull up a chair for her, then sits down grandly and like a queen. _Stupid, stupid escort,_ I think enigmatically. _It's not like she actually cares for us in the least._

Even though she's not good for much, Taro fills the dark void that's been in the room. She grabs for a roll, all the while chattering and flashing her big white teeth. Have I mentioned how much she looks like a squirrel?

After too long, or much too soon, depending on how you look at it, breakfast is over. Taro walks us back to the elevator, instructing us on how to hold ourselves, and how to dress, and all that jazz. Then she leaves us. Blaine and I ascend in silence, and split off towards our rooms without a word of parting. _All the better if he won't talk to me, if he won't look at me,_ I think furiously. _All the better to kill him. _

But I know that I won't be able to kill him. In fact, I'm seriously doubting my ability to kill anyone in general. The only people in the arena even worth killing are the careers, and it's not like I'd ever even be able to make a scratch on one of their mighty forearms.

I brush my teeth furiously, then change into leggings and a tunic-y thing. Fighting clothes, I note. We won't be able to actually fight the other tributes until we get to the arena, but we will be able to practice on Avoxs.

I ride down the elevator, alone, this time, all the way to the very bottom floor. The doors open, and I'm struck by how dark it is. The reason why comes to me in an instant. We're underground. I know that the capitol was protective of their tributes, but this development is insane! The only light comes from a doorway at the end of what appears to be a dark hallway. The whole place smells like earth. That is to say, not good. I stiffen, stand as straight as I can, then march boldly down the hallway and towards what I can only assume is the training room. I take a deep breath, then open the door. I'm early, obviously. There are only two more people in the room- the two tributes from District 9. They glance up at me as I enter, then quickly look back down at the floor. _Cowards,_ I think, with kind of a vindictive pleasure. They don't look very strong, although I suppose I appear that way to them as well.

The tension in the room is so thick you could cut it with a knife. Slowly, gradually, the rest of the tributes file in. Some look at their feet, some glance nervously from face to face. Cato grins as he glares at us, attempting to catch our eyes and stare us down. The Careers gravitate together and start talking about training tactics.

Katniss is one of the last people to come in. She's deep in conversation with the boy from her district- the only person in the games that looks even remotely friendly. The little twelve-year-old, Rue, Is looking at them longingly. Poor thing. She doesn't deserve to be in the games. Well, none of us do, really. Maybe the Careers. _They chose this,_ I remind myself. _Why not lock them in an arena and let them kill eachother?_

But this is the Hunger Games, and this is not fair.

The training leader stands and makes a speech, and then we're free to go around and visit the stations. I start at a station about poisonous foods. I'm good at memorization, as well as logic, and so I'm pretty good at this. I take one of the thick old books of poisonous things and begin committing them to memory.

Time passes quickly as I rotate from station to station. I realize that I'm following Rue, who is in turn following Katniss and Peeta.

Lunch comes, and with it, another awkward silence. Honestly, it's like being in second grade again. The Careers crowd around one table, jostling each other and laughing. Peeta and Katniss sit together as well, and begin talking. Occasionally, one of them laughs.

I'm jealous. Why can't Blaine be more like Peeta Mellark? More friendly and social and talkative? Instead of striking up a conversation, or acknowledging me in any way at all, he's sitting alone at one of the tables, slowly eating a sandwich. His eyes are glazed and he looks stunned. To me it appears as if he's given up all hope of ever getting home. _Home,_ I think, and I can feel my eyes filling up with tears. Back to Mom, and Dad, and Ollin, and Liana, and Violet…

_Violet._ The words appear bitter, even in my own mind. Where is that backstabbing she-devil anyways? Did she watch the opening ceremonies? Did she see me? What did she think?

I want to say that I don't care. That I'm not feeling lost and alone and confused. But if _Violet,_ my own _sister,_ can't stand to look at me…

And what of everyone else in my family? What must they think? My mom is probably beside herself with emotion, be they real or fake. Dad will be parked in front of the TV, refusing to go to work or do anything that would require leaving. Ollin… maybe he's young to understand what this all means. Living in District 5 is like being in a bubble. We're shielded from the other districts, most of us always have enough to eat, and it's simple enough to get a job/education. The one break in these rules is the Hunger Games. It's like the nightmare that you can never fully remember the next morning, something that only ever happens to a friend of a friend. But now my family's joined the ranks of those who've lost a child to the capitol.

***

By the third day of our training, I'm becoming increasing aware of the sensation of being watched. At first I assume that it's just the other tributes glancing at me from time to time, but during lunch I realize what it really is. The Game Makers have come. Which means that soon enough I'll have my one-on-one training, which means that soon enough I'll be forced to show them what I can do. Which is nothing, really.

And I'm not just being modest. I actually can't do _anything._ How can I win the Hunger Games, gain any spectator's respect if my start-off score is a _two?_

Truant, the boy from District 1- Truant? Glimmer? What awful names!- is called to begin. He leaves the dining room, walking back into the training hall. Then a door slides shut behind him, sealing his performance from our view. I start thinking about just what I can show the Game Makers to impress them. Apart from being one of the best students at my school- not that _that_ is going to win me the Hunger Games- I was also a cheerleader. It's not my fault, Liana dragged me into it. But we spent hours on the grassy field of our school, in the pier of either my family's mansion or her's, and even the sandy yellow beach, just practicing our moves. We were the only two freshmen on the team, a title we held with pride. But as a result, we'd built ourselves good reflexes, instinct, and I could do a mean backflip.

The dining hall, which was already quiet, goes dead silent. I look up, and see that everyone is staring at me. Crap, I've been called! Slowly and shakily I stand up and walk through the doors.

The first thing I notice is the long table, set on a platform, that flanks one edge of the room. The Game Makers are all sitting there, regarding me curiously. I'm the tenth tribute to go, which is a fairly good position. They aren't yet bored, but they've seen all of the careers. And Blaine.

The Head Game Maker, or so I assume by the red and white "Head Game Maker" pin on his shirt, glances down at a stack of papers on the table in front of him. "Scarlett Monahan?" He says, even though he knows it's correct. The Capitol doesn't make mistakes. Or so they tell us in school.

I nod my assent. Then I take the floor. Taking a deep breath, I thrust my arms into the air and throw myself forward. It's just a standard cartwheel, but I want to build upwards. From my cartwheel I turn into a round-off. When I land that, I sink down into the splits.

But I'm not done yet. Pushing off of the ground back into crouching position, I rise into a handstand. Walkover, walkover, walkover. Then I jump onto on of the stairs that leads to the Game Maker platform, poised on my tiptoes, and throw myself off in a back flip.

The Game Makers murmur to each other, and the Head frowns at me. "Can you do anything with weapons?" he wants to know.

I feel my face flush completely. "Erm, no," I say, hoping I don't sound too pathetic.

"Very well. You may go."

I give a little curtsy, then hop with small steps towards the door. Once I'm out of the range of the Game Makers and their judging eyes, I breathe out hard. I wasn't great, I know. But I did my best. I'm hoping for a three, maybe.

There's nothing else to do, so I go up to my room and wait. At around five, Taro comes banging on my door and telling me to come for dinner. I walk downstairs for once, ditching the elevator completely. I don't really want to see any of my team, but unfortunately, luck is against me. When I make it down to the lobby they are all waiting for me. I follow silently as my entire team- my escort, my designer, my prep team, and my mentor- file into the dining room and sit down at a table. They begin talking about tomorrows interviews, not even bothering to ask how our private sessions with the Game Makers went. I catch Blaine's eye and roll my own. He half-smiles.

I find myself wondering about his session. What did he do, exactly? I mean, I don't really know anything about him. He was in Violet's grade at school. But, I suppose I'm not really supposed to know. It would give me an unfair advantage.

Dinner passes by with mounting tension. It's hard to focus on eating when I know that, soon enough, my talents in a nutshell will be broadcast over Panem. I mean, seriously! How embarrassing! Especially compared to Cato's, or Thresh's, or Glimmer's, or Katniss'…

And Katniss. I wonder what she scored? She sure doesn't look that powerful. And Rue! Poor, tiny little Rue.

The Avox' step forward and begin to clear off our table. This is our cue to get up and go to our private viewing room, where the scores will be broadcast. Sitting numbly on the couch, I watch as the national anthem plays and the national seal appears on the TV. Then there is a brief review of the opening ceremonies from a few nights ago, with people talking about the tribute's outfits. Mainly they discuss Glimmer and Katniss. They mention a few others too, but mums the word when it comes to me.

Then there's Caesar, the Hunger Games host, talking about the scoring. He's very careful not to give anything away, and I doubt he knows what happened anyways, but he glosses over some special talents he saw. Then some cheery capitol pop song comes on, and a headshot of Glimmer, looking absolutely stunning, fills the screen. The number '8' flashes on beneath her.

The rest of the Careers soon follow. The boy from One gets a 7. Cato, that monster boy from District 2, scores a 10, while Clove, an equally formidable girl gets a 9. District Three isn't actually a career district, and so the girl gets a three while the boy gets a two. Then Four, more careers, both get eights. Then it's five's turn.

I wait, hands gripping the sofa's hand rest like an iron vise, as Blaine scores a three. From next to me I can hear a sigh. Then it's my turn. My picture flashes onto the screen. It's not a bad one, actually. My hair is all sunlight-y and I'm flashing a smile, a white-toothed one that seems to say, "Hee hee, I'm going to kill you." But I'm not really focused on the picture. Instead I'm focusing on the five that flashes up. Five!

I'm not sure whether to be pleased or not. Yeah, I beat out Blaine and those District 3 people, but is a five really something to be proud of?

I snap back to attention somewhere around District 9. A four. Then a six. District 10 scores a three and a seven. Then it's District 11's turn. Rue, the tiny twelve year old, scores a seven. A seven! She beat me! Maybe I should be more worried about her?

Thresh, that hulking guy as big as Cato, scores a ten as well. No surprise there…

Then it's the moment I've been waiting for. District 12. Peeta, the oh-so-friendly boy, pulls up an eight. Hmph, maybe he's not as friendly as I thought. Then it's Katniss. And she scores an eleven.

An eleven.

E.L.E.V.E.N.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you, thank you, and thank you a million times over to everyone who's reviewed! I'm so sorry I've taken so long to update, but I've been really busy lately. I'm very grateful to everyone that's still sticking with me- it's just, the capitol scenes are so hard to write! Fortunately I'm almost done and through with them. This chapter's the interview, the next is the launch… and then it's game time! Wahoo!**

On the day of my interview, I'm oh-so-nicely awoken by Taro banging on my door and shrieking in that awful, nasal, capitol-y accented voice of hers. "Time to get up!" She shrieks. "Interviews today!"

"I'm already up!" I grumble into my pillow, and then flip over onto my back. My new capitol bed is the most comfortable thing I have ever slept on. I fall asleep like a baby. And yet- every morning I wake up more tired, and with constant under-eye bags.

I pull myself out of my bed and stumble half blind into the bathroom, where the shower curtain viciously mauls me. After untangling myself, I jam a half dozen of the hundred or so buttons down with the palm of my hand, just to see what they'll do. I'm enveloped in a thick pink mist, which, as far as I can tell, does nothing except to make me smell like a mixture of hay and petunias. I notice a small buttoned labeled 'conditioner', which I quickly press. My hair has been becoming knotted more and more easily- I wonder if the game makers would consider a bottle of detangler to be a token?

My room was obviously designed for a person far taller than myself. The conditioner, which squirts out of a hole in the wall, misses me by about six inches and splatters onto the wall behind me. I scrape it off with a towel, then press the button again and cup my hands around the hole. It flies out and stings my hands as it makes contact.

The perfect start to a _perfect_ day, huh?

I eventually make it out of the shower, dress in a silvery dress thing that someone has laid

out for me, and head downstairs to the dining room. Blaine is already sitting there and

eating a cinnamon roll. Yum. I pull the basket of bread towards me.

Taro claps her hands together and makes a freakishly happy face. "This is so exciting!'

she cheers. "We're going to have so much fun today!"

Only, she says it all affectedly, and it sounds more like, "This is soooooo ex-site-inggg!!!

Weee'reeee going to have soooo muh-uch fuh-un tooooday!!!"

The Lupe starts agreeing with her, and talking about interview tactics and so forth. Then

Dell comes in with The-Prep-Team-of-Doom and the topic switches to dresses.

"Of course, it's not required to represent your District in your interview costume," Dell is

saying. "So we won't. I mean, District 5 isn't, like, interesting, or anything."

Did he honestly just say that?

"I know!" Lupe cries. "I mean, I grew up there, and it's not like anything's going on! It's

all, let's develop stuff for the capitol! Let's build a better gene multiplier! Lets find _actual_

permanent hair dye!"

Traitor! I begin shredding my napkin with my prep-team-of-doom enhanced nails. Blaine

looks pained. Regilus sips his cup of coffee and doesn't say a thing.

"I think that finding actual permanent hair dye is very important," pipes up stick women

Pia.

"Isn't it, darling?" Dell pats his curly green hair. "This one says that its permanent, but

it's really only semi."

I'm beginning to question Dell's sexuality.

After what seems like years, although it could only have been fifteen minutes, Taro winks

at Blaine and me. "You will each have two hours with me, two hours with Lupe, and then

two hours with Regilus." She says. "Then three hours of dressing and makeup. Then it's

interview time!"

"Whoopee." I state flatly. Taro, completely missing my sarcasm, bobs her head

enthusiastically.

I start with Lupe. She's in charge of coming up with my angle. "Witty, sly, and elusive."

She says immediately. Then she asks me simple questions, which I answer wittily, slyly,

and elusively.

"Lupe," I groan. "How can I possible act elusive and witty at the same time? I can't avoid

a topic while discussing it intelligently!"

"Do your best," Lupe says with a sigh. "You _must_ have it in you _somewhere_."

"Have what?"

"Charm."

"Gee, thanks."

"You're welcome. Now shut up. What's your favorite oatmeal topping?"

***

My time with Taro is just as pleasant. She throws me into hooker high heels and makes

me stumble along the room while smiling sultrily and arching an eyebrow.

"I look deranged!" I complain. She ignores me.

"Excellent. Now shake your hips a little bit. No that's too much… _oh, Scarlett!"_

This last part comes because I crash down onto a table, smashing a vase. Wide eyed Avoxs rush in to make sure that I am not hurt. Which I'm not, except for my pride. And my feet.

Taro shoos them away, and as they leave, I can swear I hear one laughing.

***

Regilus' room is totally dark when I slowly step into it. I look around for a minute before spotting him in an armchair, regarding me coolly. He gestures towards an armchair, which I sit down in stiffly.

"Tell me about yourself." He demands.

I'm caught off guard. "Excuse me?"

"Tell. Me. About. You." He says, slowly and deliberately, as if speaking to a child.

"I'm Scarlett Monahan. I'm fourteen years old. I was picked as District 5's tribute for the 74th annual Hunger Games, and I'm being prepared like a sheep for the slaughter."

He shakes his head impatiently, his dark and mop-like hair flying everywhere. "No. I mean, tell, me about _you_.

I could almost laugh. I've spent the day being banal and shallow at the hands of Taro and Lupe, and now he wants to psychoanalyze me?

"Alrighty, then. I'm Scarlett Monahan. I'm fourteen years old. I'm the second child in a family of five. My mother is attention-crazy and self-obsessed. My father is always busy at work and never has time for me. My sister, Violet, didn't come to say goodbye to me- she couldn't take time out of her busy social life, I guess. I doubt that my brother, Ollin, even remembers that I exist. Never once in my life have I been loved- and now I guess I never will."

He regards me, face expressionless and unreadable. "Go on."

And that's how I end up spending my entire two hours. Spilling everything I've always wanted to say but never could to my mentor. By the end I'm practically in tears.

He nods at me. For this whole time he's been so withdrawn, so unreachable. "How do you feel, Scarlett?" He asks.

I'm surprised again. How do I feel? How does he _think_ I feel? "I feel awful," I say slowly, so that he gets it this time.

He leans back, satisfied. "Take this raw emotion, Scarlett. Channel it. Bend it to your will. Hide your thoughts, and become an animal. A fox. _That_ is how you will win the Hunger Games."

I start laughing; great, hysterical laughs. Not because I'm surprised, or deranged, or weird, but because he's right.

***

I'm sitting down and thinking through all of this as The Prep Team of Doom, led by Dr. Evil Dell himself, prepares me for my interview. I'm scrubbed down, re-waxed, stenciled, tanned, and beautified. Then I'm pulled into a tight fitting red gown that almost exactly matches my hair color. Lovely. My shoes are red and glittery slippers, with a low kitten heel. I'm very much relieved that there will be no more protiboots today. I've had enough of those for a lifetime.

Blaine is wearing a tuxedo. How interesting, right? No, not at all. We're escorted into a limo, which carries us to the stadium for our interviews. When we step out, I am once again reminded of the danger that is the paparazzi. Their flashes on their cameras go off, and I nearly trip again. Luckily Blaine catches and steadies me before I can do a head dive, a la Haymitch, into the red carpet.

While this little ordeal is going on, I'm being bombarded with questions. I swear that I hear the favorite oatmeal-topping question at least three times.

Eventually, we make it into the ballroom-turned-theatre and find our velvet-y chairs. I end up sitting next to Luciliana, the girl from District 4, who glares at me. What a career.

Then the interviews start. Caesar Flickman comes out, the crowd cheers, and away we go!

By the time my interview comes around, I'm almost bored to death. So far it's been only careers, whose interviews consist mainly of, "Huh! I'm a career! I will crush you! I will make you bleed! Fear me!"

When I'm called, I take a deep breath. Standing up forces blood to my head, and I almost fall again. But it's okay- and then, feeling almost separated from my bod, I walk up onto the stage and shake Caesar's hand.

I'm in such a daze that I barely hear the words that come out of my mouth. But I do see the audience's reaction, and I decide that whatever I'm doing is working. So I continue. At the end of three minutes, Caesar wishes me luck and shakes me hand again. Then it's Blaine's turn. I step daintily down and return to my seat.

If I thought that the Careers were bad, the rest are horrendous. They stumble along and ramble, making the audience twitter at the awkwardness of it all. District 11 comes, which is sad because of Rue, then District 12.

Katniss is an airhead. I almost go back on my secret plan here and now at this realization. She giggles and twirls. You'd think she were a fountain, the way she gushes.

Peeta is sweet and charming. But that's not the main shock- no, the main shock is that he's-get this- _in love with Katniss._ Damn! Why didn't I think of that? It's brilliant!

It says a lot that I feel jealous of Katniss in this moment. I notice that I've been doing that a lot lately. Well, can you blame me?

We return to the Game Headquarters. I'm exhausted, so I excuse myself from the replay and head up to my floor to get some sleep. Tomorrow the games will start, and I won't be able to rest much then.

_This could be my last night alive._ I think sleepily. _I hope that I dream good dreams._

And with that, I fall asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

***Sings* Reviews, reviews, reviews! Thank you for reviews!**

**This chapter is going to be really short, so I apologize in advance. I just wanted to get Scarlett's thoughts down right before entering the game. **

_I'm going to die, going to die, going to die. _Pace, pace. _Crap, oh crap, I'm going to die. _

I'm pacing around my room, waiting anxiously for Taro to come bring me down for breakfast. It's the first day of the Hunger Games, and I'm practically jumping out of my skin. This is kind of like torture, knowing that by tonight I could be dead. At least I had sweet dreams last night…

I run into the bathroom and bathe quickly. I've figured out the buttons well enough to take a shower. I might as well, because once the games start, I'll be absolutely filthy. When I'm done in the shower, I brush my teeth and pull my hair into a wet ponytail. A few dabs of concealor, and I'm ready to go.

I hear a knock on the door and trip in surprise. It's not Taro- she would have announced her arrival in a far more dramatic way. I edge the door open, and it's an Avox. She's got bright red hair, kind of like my own. She motions for me to step outside.

"Breakfast?" I ask. She nods.

Leaving my room has an air of finality to it. I ride down the elevator one last time, admiring the glass walls for the first- and last- time. _The capitol really is beautiful,_ I marvel.

The doors open, and I spill out into District 5's private dining room. Regilus looks up as I enter, but Taro and Lupe are too deep in conversation to notice my arrival. Blaine doesn't acknowledge my presence in any way. Instead, he keeps his eyes firmly trained on the newspaper that he's holding. On the front page, in big block letters, are "Watch The 74th Annual Hunger Games on Channel 11!" Beneath that, in smaller letters, are the words, "Games to commence today". My stomach turns and I feel nauseous.

I pull what seems to be a cherry pie towards me and begin to eat. It's rich, and I'm soon full, but I keep eating. This meal might be my last- might as well gain weight eating what I want to.

After a hearty meal of pie, rolls, and sausage, Taro turns her attention to us at last. "We'll be accompanying you to the train station," she squeaks. "Then the train will take you to your launching room, where Dell and Bolivia will get you ready for launch."

Blaine gulps noisily. I look at him- he's horrible pale, and looks like he could be shaking. Poor thing. Poor all of us.

Avox's clear off our table and usher us out the door. Outside of the lobby, we step into a sleek black limousine. I take a seat next to a window, and spend the whole trip gaping out of the tinted window at the city around me.

It's beautiful, in a magical spell book sort of way. The buildings all glitter as if they were carved out of crystal, and they cast rainbows of light onto the shimmering sidewalks. Here and there, golden haired children dart out of the crowds of pedestrians, followed by their dabbitogs. Dabbitogs are a muttation of the Capitol's, spawned in District 5's labs. Unlike most other muttations, however, dabbitogs were made for pleasure. They are a mix of a bunny and a dog, and so look like extremely furry toy poodles with stick uppity ears. They are extremely fast and loyal.

Everywhere I look, I see happy people, relaxing and soaking up the sunlight. And here I am, trapped in this fancy limo prison, being taken off to fulfill my death sentence.

The train station is once again packed with reporters when we get there. They shout questions at us as we step onto the train. Taro, Lupe, and Regilus follow us on- Taro crying softly. My heart melts at this sight- so she really did care for us, all this time. Then I realize that it's just for show, and I'm angry again.

Taro kisses our cheeks goodbye, and then turns away so that she can reapply waterproof mascara. Lupe is more sincere- she just hugs us. "Neither of you should go into the cornucopia," she says. " Get out and find food and water. Build a shelter. Survive."

We nod, and she puts her arm around Taro and leads her off of the train.

Now it's just Blaine, Regilus, and I. Regilus pats Blaine on the shoulder and says good luck. Blaine nods stiffly and pads off to lie down in his compartment. Then Regilus turns to me. He leans down for a hug, and then straightens up again quickly. "Remember. Like a fox."

I nod in agreement. "Like a fox."

His gaze is far away. "I believe in you, Scarlett… good luck. I mean it."

My eyes brim up with tears, and I wipe away at them hastily. "Thank you," I mumble.

He moves to get off of the train, and I watch him go. Then I turn and walk to my compartment.

Three hours I spend just looking out of the window at the countryside. We head southwest- out of mountains, then into rolling hills of grain. At one point I'm pretty sure that we pass District 7- it just appears to be a tiny haze in the distance. I gaze at all of Panem's beauty in amazement.

Then the train stops, and, heart thudding, I dismount it. An Avox leads me down some steps into an underground room- my launching room. In it are a bowl of soup, a bottle of water, and Dell.

I like the former two, but the latter not at all. He gives me a ghoulish smile. "I have your fighting clothes right here," he says. "Now eat up, and I'll get you ready."

I finger Liana's bracelet, which I've been wearing straight for the past week. "I'm ready."

He raises an eyebrow at me. "Are you?"

After that, we don't speak much. I eat my soup, drink the water bottle, and then stand up. "I'll dress now," I say a bit awkwardly.

He hands me the bag. In it are a white tank top, blue blouse, and black shorts. There's also a long gray jacket that reflects body heat. It must be pretty cold where we are, then. I silently curse the shorts.

After an hour or two of silence, a pinging sound fills the room. It's a moment before I realize that it's an intercom. _"District Five Tribute 2 ready to launch. Repeat, ready to launch."_

I stand up and walk over to the circular platform that all of the tributes must stand on. It weighs me carefully- if my weight is to shift _at all_ in the next few minutes I'll be standing on it, the mines will activate and blow me up. Lovely.

I stare at Dell for a moment, and he stares back. Then he says, almost sheepishly, "Good luck."

"Thank you."

The intercom comes back on, crackling slightly. _"District 5 launch. District 5, launch."_

The platform I'm standing on begins to rise slowly. I stand up as straight as I can, toss my hair back over my shoulder, and raise my chin.

The hoverplatform builds up speed as it raises me into the 74th Annual Hunger Games.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you to reviewers and subscribers! You guys means so much to me! **

**Hooray!!! At last, Scarlett has entered the Games! This is going to be fun...! And gory, very gory. **

**__________________________________________________________________**

I blink my eyes, trying to get used to the light.

After being in the dim launching room for so long, the glare of the sun is almost unbearable. I squint as I look around at my surroundings. To my left is a lake, and to my right, woods. Straight in front of me is the Cornucopia, weapons and supplies spilling from it's curved metal lips. I know the drill- I have sixty seconds. I count slowly, looking around at my competitors. Most of them look prepared to run into the Cornucopia.

I know what Regilus said, about running and finding water, but it's so _hard._ It's not like I can do anything with any of the weapons here, but my fingers itch for them anyways. I can see tents, water purifiers, and what seems to be an oven, glimmering in the early afternoon sun. I spot a backpack, about five yards in front of me- I'll go for that and nothing else, then turn and run.

A few circles to my right, Peeta Mellark is looking around hastily. He relaxes visibly when he spots Katniss, two circles to my left. She is posed awkwardly, as if not knowing which direction to run to. _The forest!_ I will her silently. _Go to the forest!_

Five circles to my right is Blaine. His face is set in determination, and my heart suddenly swells up in fear of him. Amazing, isn't it? Someone that I've seen all of my life suddenly becomes a predator.

48… 49… 50… In a little over ten seconds, I could very well be dead. 53… 54… 55… Only five seconds before the Games truly begin… 56… 57… 58… Oh god, oh god… 59… and 60!

The Gong rings and my heart nearly jumps out of my chest. I stand there for an instant, then throw myself forward, dashing towards the Cornucopia. I grab a water bottle- empty, of course- then a purifier. Katniss dashes past me, heading to the only apparent bow. "You idiot!" I scream after her, but I doubt that anyone can hear me in the chaos. Peeta, pale as a ghost, rushes to follow her.

A boy running near me- Alexer Brigham, from District 8- suddenly stumbles on a rock and falls to the ground. A knife enters the back of his head before he can even begin to stand up. He wavers, twitching a bit, then slowly stands up. Another knife comes at him, striking his right shoulder, swiftly followed by two more.

Alexer's gray-green eyes flicker to mine, and I feel as if I've been electrocuted. The fighting is too loud for me to hear him, but I can read his lips. "Help," he murmurs. I take a step towards him, overcome with sympathy for this boy. Then a spear, two meters long at least, pierces him through the chest. He falls down, dead, with me only feet away from him.

I stare at him for a moment in shock. Then I kneel down and gently remove his jacket. I fold it under my arm and continue running.

I grab a few more little things- a knife, a rain jacket, and a sheet of plastic- before I reach the pack. I sling it over my shoulder and begin to run towards the forest. Screams echo from all sides, subsequently followed by pleading and tears. I haven't heard the canons fire yet, but that is only to be expected. The canons don't sound until the initial fighting has ceased, and the dead can be counted up.

I reach the edge of the clearing and, not stopping to look back, run into the trees.

***

I run until I can't run anymore. In the distance, I can still hear the clash of weapons against each other. The fighting isn't over, and somewhere near the Cornucopia I lost Liana's bracelet. Crap, I don't even have my good luck charm anymore! I lean over, clutching my chest, eyes suddenly swimming in tears. I've been in the games for forty-five minutes, and they're already worse than I could possibly imagine.

Eventually I get a hold of myself. I need to get away from here as fast as I can, that much is clear. I throw my knife, my plastic, and my water bottle into the pack and slide Alexer's jacket over my own. Then I continue running.

***

At nightfall I slow again. I've made fairly good speed, fueled by adrenaline rushes and fear. Not bad for a cheerleader.

It's getting dark, and I still haven't found water. There's nothing I can do about it now- if I continue to travel, I'll be walking straight into the career's spears. No, my best bet is for me to hunker down for the night.

In the fading dusk, I unzip my pack. Fingers shaking, I pull out my supplies. Two water bottles, both completely dry. Wonderful, if I can ever find water. One water purifying kit- complete with iodine and a laser purifier. One sheet of plastic, roughly two feet by two feet. I have the rain jacket that I shoved into it during the Cornucopia chaos, plus both Alexer's and my own heat containing jackets. I won't freeze to death, that's a relief. Three boxes of matches and two long candles. A few protein bars and a bottle of aspirin. The knife I picked up off of the ground of the clearing, and one tiny switchblade I find in the side compartment. A little guide to poisonous and edible berries. And lastly, one small woolen blanket.

It's not bad at all- I'm suddenly glad that I decided to go after this bag. I have a little bit of food, a way of making water safe, and two small weapons. As long as I have the blanket and jackets, I won't freeze.

I glance up at the trees- I could attempt to make a nest up there- then decide against it. I could roll off in the night, and then bang, dead Scarlett. No, I'll be safer on the ground. I locate a thick looking push and use my knife to dig a small hole. Then I burrow into it, lay my jackets on top of me, and look up into the sky to watch today's deaths.

The capitol's anthem plays, the Caesar Flickman congratulates the survivors. I can't help but feel a little bit proud. _That's me!_ I feel like saying. _I'm a survivor!_

Then the head shots of the casualties come on. Among them is, of course, Alexer Brigham. I pull his jacket around me tighter when I see this.

Then- _oh god_­- Blaine. Blaine. Blaine is dead. Dead. Gone. I remember his face, looking so determined and set as he prepared to run into the Cornucopia. His face merges with Alexer, lying dying on the ground, back filled with knives. I roll onto my side and vomit up everything that I'd eaten today.

A career is dead too- one of the ones who's name I can't recall. At least that.

The anthem plays again, and the night goes dark. Animals begin to move around again, crickets chirping softly.

Thirteen teenagers dead, eleven left to play. Katniss is alive, as is Peeta, as is Rue. So are Cato, Glimmer, and Clove. Ditto Thresh. I am, of course, and so is that boy from District 10 with the bad leg. There are two more who I can't think of off the top of my head, but could still be a threat to me. More that half the players are dead, but I'm still alive. This thought soothes me slightly, horrible as it sounds.

***

I awake in the middle of the night to the sound of screaming. I leap to my feet, thinking that the career's are upon me. After a moment or two of hearing only my racing heart, I realize that it was someone else screaming, far away from me. I sink back down into my makeshift nest in relief. A canon fires. Ten more players left.

I lie back down again, wondering whom this last signal was for. It could only have been a girl- the scream was far too high pitched to be a boy's. I hope fervently that Katniss and Rue are still alive- they're the innocent ones, the ones who deserve to subsist this as much as I do. I'll find out who it was tonight, I suppose.

I attempt to fall asleep again, but this soon proves impossible. I get back to my feet and begin packing my bag again. Then I slowly stand up. As long as I have energy to stay awake, I should have energy to find water.

I know that it's perilous, what I'm doing- but it's a risk I need to take. If I can't get any water by the end of the day, I'm as good as dead. I begin to walk, slowly at first to stretch my sore legs out, then more quickly as time passes. When day breaks I'm practically running, I'm so fraught. My throat is parched and arid and I feel feverish.

I look at my feet, watching for stray rocks as I run. The memory of Alexer's death is still fresh in my mind, the precarity of falling down. I'm concentrating so hard that I don't realize I've left the forest until it's too late.

I look around, and immediately the danger of the situation hits me. I've walked a full circle in the dark, and I'm back at the Cornucopia now. A half mile away at the lake lies the career's camp- I can see them all sitting around a campfire, talking away. It's all flat ground from here to there, and if one of them were to glance up, they'd see me immediately.

I tiptoe back into the woods, then break into a run. I'm a good ten minutes away when an idea hits me. _I should steal some of there supplies,_ I think. _The lake is right there… I could get water…_ Perhaps if I were in my right mind, this idea would be idiotic. But I'm dying of dehydration, and this could be my only chance. Before I can change my mind, I dart off in the opposite direction, heading back to the career's encampment.


	8. Chapter 8

**AH!!!! I love you all, my dear reviewers- especially those who had to shift through pages and pages of fanfictions to find mine. It's been forever and a half since I updated, so I apologize. I've had a hard time trying to write the beginning of this chapter, and I'm still not fully satisfied with how it sounds. Other than that small detail, enjoy the chapter!!!**

Bleh.

I get a mouthful of bush, _again_. I've been waiting for what seems like hours now, but the Careers are all just sitting in a circle and boasting. Paranoia makes me hyperaware, and every time I hear the slightest noise, I dive into my bush. It's verdant, with barbs that keep stabbing me. Ergo the bleh.

I want to sit down, but I've been crouching in the same position for so long my knees have locked into place. Besides, I can't run the risk of meeting another- read: stronger- tribute. I doubt that I will, but who know? And in any case, I'll need to slink around the Careers to get water. Might as well stay here, where I'm secure for the moment.

It hasn't been all bad. Eavesdropping on the Careers has given me some more insight into their characters. Also, shockingly, Peeta's. Yes, he is here, apparently having abandoned his love for Katniss for his love for himself. I find myself feeling even more sorry for her, a dangerous emotion here in the games.

The boy from District 1, Truant, is tall and lean. He's the kind of boy that Violet would have liked. He's good looking- curly dark hair, brown eyes, etc.- with a kind of mocking smile. He and Cato, the boy from District 2, seem to get on pretty well. Truant's real skill seems to lie in trapping and spear throwing, and he flirts mercilessly with the girl from his district.

Glimmer, the beautiful girl from District 1, is also tall and slender. Her own curly hair is golden blonde, the kind that Violet has. Only Vi's comes from a bottle of hair-dye. She seems pretty useless with weapons, but she's so gorgeous it won't be a problem. All of the sponsors will want her to come home, so that she can model for the Capitol. Next to her, I feel inferior. Skinny and snub-nosed and inferior.

Clove, the girl of District 2, laughs at something that Truant has just said. She's shorter and brawnier than the statuesque Glimmer, but still has a kind of dangerous beauty to her. Her hair is dark and shoulder length, cropped in such a way that looks like she did it herself.

Cato is also brawny and shorter than his District 1 counterpart. The people from the same Districts usually tend to look alike, or at least share characteristics. Cato is definitely more dangerous, though. He seems volatile and unpredictable, sharing stories of raids on the less fortunate side of District 2. I personally didn't know that they had a less fortunate side, but whatever. In any case, Cato is a bully, a force to be reckoned with. He practically screams danger. I'll do well to stay out of his way.

District 4. Alyvia, true to her name, is tiny and elfish. Not exactly Career material, but no matter. I can hear her telling stories of hunting from back home, and know that she is much stronger than she looks. She has a dark hair, like Clove, but in falls in waves across her back, like Glimmer's. She has a sharp laugh, and something about her makes me cringe.

Peeta is unlike the other Careers. He is quiet, lost in thought, and sounds distant whenever asked a question. Fortunately that's not too often. The Careers are all still too caught up in their own beauty and skill to care about their sixth cadet.

"And then, I swear, she screamed and just _fainted!_" screeches Glimmer between gasps of air. The rest of the Careers roar with laughter. She's just finished telling them some god-awful story about a girl named Posy.

I groan inwardly and shift a little bit. It's getting dark, and unless I get in and get out quickly, I run the risk of dying of dehydration. I'm wishing for a miracle when one happens.

"It's getting dark out," Peeta says, standing up. "We should go out hunting again."

I arch my eyebrows in surprise. Is it just me, or does he seem anxious to go hunting? To find a certain girl, perhaps? Maybe the love act isn't over yet.

Cato glances up at the sky. "Whatever." He grunts. I've noticed that he does a lot of that. Grunting, I mean.

Alyvia makes a squeaking noise in delight. "I want a pair of LunarGlasses!" she pipes up.

Clove frowns at her. "You had a pair last night. I want a pair tonight."

Alyvia scrunches her dainty features in anger. "So what? I'm obviously the better hunter. Aren't I, Truant?"

"Huh?" Truant looks up in confusion. Apparently, he and Glimmer were "deep in conversation".

Glimmer flicks her long hair out of her face, annoyance at being interrupted on her face. "Stop arguing, you two. Cato and I are getting the glasses tonight."

"You?" Peeta says with a laugh. "What for? So that you can see as you reapply your lip gloss?"

Glimmer tosses her hair superiorly. "Why would I do that? It's nighttime, you idiot."

Peeta just looks at her.

Clove is deeply pissed. I see it on her face; on the way she clenches and unclenches her fists. "I am getting a pair of glasses," she insists in a low voice.

Alyvia stands up. "Over my dead body."

Clove smiles maniacally. "With pleasure."

Alyvia rushes her, stabs a long handled knife into Clove's right forearm. Blood runs in rivulets down her arm, staining the ground as it makes contact.

Clove raises her left arm and jams it into Alyvia's windpipe. Alyvia makes a noise like an animal being hit by a car and drops onto the ground. She's not out for long, though. She kicks at Clove's leg, making her drop to the ground. They roll around in the dirt for a moment. Then Cato growls "Get up!" in a furious voice, and both girls jump up, blushing and covered in dirt.

"Peeta and I will take the glasses. I'll lead, and Peeta will be covering us in back. Glimmer and Clove will flank us on either side, with Truant and Alyvia scouting around us."

"Scouting?" Truant asks, sounding amused.

"Yes. Circle around us, weapons drawn. Kill anyone you see, anything that moves."

"Yessir!" Truant says, hand to his head in a mock salute.

"Let's move."

I wait and watch as they grab their weapons and bags, then move out in formation for another night of hunting. I can easily deduce that Cato is their leader, and that Clove and Alyvia seem to hate each other. Information like this might be helpful sometime soon. I give it a good ten minutes before I move. My tongue is like sandpaper, and my legs shake with the effort of walking. I reach the lake, falling to my knees. I somehow manage to unscrew the top of my water bottles and fill them with water. Not bothering to purify, I gulp hastily at the cool, sweet water. It's like a dream. I just lie there, drinking, as night falls and the anthem plays. The girl who died early this morning was Tavora, one of the tributes that I couldn't remember last night. Not Katniss or Rue, thank goodness.

As I pack my bags and begin hiking away from the Careers, I allow myself to think of home.

My earliest memory was of Ollin being born. It's all very vague and hazy, but I remember having to go to my grandparent's house as my mother gave birth. Everyone was crying and carrying on, and I got really scared, thinking that my mother had died and that nobody would tell me. Then we got a phone call from the hospital. It was my mother's doctor, announcing to us that it was a baby boy. At that, I got very confused. I remember asking my Grandmother, "Why couldn't I see the stork? I wanted to see the stork!"

She responded with, "Because if the stork had seen you, it would have taken you away with it, and you would never see any of us again." I was scared of storks and other birds for years.

Now here, surrounded by death and destruction, with no chance of ever seeing my family again, I feel as if I've finally been taken by the stork.


End file.
